


Saturday Visits/Good Mornings

by alicekittridge



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: 'fluff', F/F, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-10 22:09:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15958562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alicekittridge/pseuds/alicekittridge
Summary: Villanelle dropping in on Eve, as she is wont to do.





	Saturday Visits/Good Mornings

**Author's Note:**

> A short little ficlet that was written for Dani/viagiordano as a surprise; decided to share it with you all too. Mostly an attempt to get back into writing in Eve's head, which is both a challenge and something I've missed!

It’s Saturday, and for once, Eve’s alarm doesn’t go off at seven in the morning. She rolls to her left, at ten, and her hand meets warm skin. She sighs, almost mumbles a good morning before she realizes where she is, and that she hadn’t gone to bed with anyone. She sits up sharply, taking the sheets with her, and they reveal Villanelle, whose hair is a lovely mess across Eve’s second pillow, who is wearing nothing but a camisole and simple white underwear. Who is looking at her through sleepy but bright eyes.

            “Where the fuck did you come from?” Eve says.

            “Good morning to you too, Eve,” says Villanelle, and it’s unfair how attractive her morning voice is.

            Eve turns away, throwing her legs over the side of the bed, and there’s a hum from behind her.

            “You sleep naked now?”

            “I don’t exactly have company anymore,” she replies hotly, “so yes, I do.”

            “It’s nice,” Villanelle says. Eve hears her roll over, hears her stretching and the sound of joints popping. “And I flew in from Spain, by the way. Even saved you a bottle of sangria from Sevilla. You know they do carriage tours and show you the sights? Very romantic.”

            “I assume I’ll be hearing about Spain in the news,” Eve says. She still hasn’t moved. Villanelle will only stare, and it’ll make her skin crawl with uncomfortable desire.

            “Perhaps.”

            “What’re you doing here?”

            There’s a rustle of sheets, and then there are fingertips running over her spine, tracing it delicately. Villanelle murmurs, “Don’t you know how soundly I sleep here?”

            Eve does. The few times she’d let Villanelle stay, after sex, she’d taken the side of the bed that Niko usually occupied and, after putting a polite distance between them, had fallen deeply into dreams. One time she’d rolled over in the middle of the night, unable to sleep, and had simply watched Villanelle, listened to her even breaths, studied her half-lit face as the corner of her mouth twitched, or a crease appeared between her brows, wondering what sorts of things she dreamed. For what did assassins dream of? Their victims? Their pleasures?

            “There are other places,” Eve says after a moment.

            Villanelle hums, and there are lips pressing softly against Eve’s bare shoulder. “Maybe I can’t stay away from you.”

            Eve turns her head over her shoulder, the tip of her nose brushing Villanelle’s. Her eyes are wide, alert, a greenish color today, and wanting. Eve kisses her, because how can she not, when Villanelle is so inviting? She kisses her deeply, hungrily, hoping it’ll substitute for what she can’t say. _I can’t stay away from you, either._ She cups Villanelle’s face between her hands, pushes bodily into her until they’re lying down. Hands travel up her arms, then find her breasts. Eve moans, accidentally bites down on Villanelle’s lower lip, and she absorbs the other woman’s sharp intake of breath.

            “Can’t you bite me elsewhere?” Villanelle asks, and it’s breathless.

            Eve chuckles, despite herself. “Good morning,” she says, and gives in to the request.


End file.
